Dark Rituals
by Evil Orange Crayon
Summary: Wistful thinking for how the game could take Sylvanas. Instead of having her follow the route of Garrosh, she forges her own.


Okay, so I didn't think I'd come back to this fandom. But. Wow is a hellva drug. Anyway, Sylvanas is going down a similar road as Garry did. But here I'm hoping that instead of going down the road of a racist orc, I want them to take the Dark Lady down a path that might have her trying to dethrone Bolvar. If she's going to take the same mantal that Arthas wore, why not claim his closest ally.

Also, take this as a plea for Blizzard to give us Kel'Thuzad back in game. And… maybe leave shamans alone.

Candles flared to life, burning a pale green in the infested air. The dark stone of the Undercity drank up the feeble light hungrily and made the ritual all the more erie. Of course, that didn't affect her in the least. She stood just within the edge of the light watching as her masked people, her mages and guard, worked to clear the plague from the area and bring the large phylactery into the center of the circle.

"Dark lady," a voice rasped through a leather gas mask. "The air is clear. You can remove the mask if you wish."

"Can I?" She pinned the apothecary with her burning red gaze. "Perhaps you should prove that it is safe."

"Y-yes," there was a study before the mask fell away to expose a weathered face and glowing gold gaze. "My apologies, my Lady." He bowed readily, his spine creaking beneath his robes. He took a struggled breath under her penetrating eyes, the air wheezing from him.

When he didn't collapse with it, when it didn't prove to be his final breath for his final death, she loosened buckles that meshed up her pale locks. She tugged the front of the mask off and took a deep breath of the dank air that was familiar with what had been her home. Her kingdom. There was the burning acidic smell of the plague in the background, but a cursory look proved that the burning torches readily ate away the green smoke that took up the Undercity.

"That's enough," her voice echoed. "We need only clear enough space for this to take place. We don't want to give the Alliance dogs and chance to take our lands from us."

"Yes, Dark Lady," hissed from each of her followers. While the mages moved forward the guard and apothecaries stood at attention, ready to come to aid if necessary.

Things had become precarious with their survival, now she had nothing left to safe her from the tightening grasp of hell. Her people knew this as well as she did, for if she were to fall then so would they, little bit little. If they didn't do something, the Forsaken would die out.

The situation had become so much more dire.

The mages took up position within the circle, a tome was opened and Cain began to speak the words. She watched expectantly, her attention honed in on the ornate urn in they surrounded. There was no telling if the creature that it was attached to wasn't already creeping through the world of the living now. Every Cult of the Damned member that had been interrogated had led to nothing, there was only the hope that after so long since his defeat that he hadn't resurrected.

It left it feeling bitter, a foul taste in her mouth to be in her position now. This bastard was the reason she was dead, that she was striving to keep the remnants of her soul from the bowels of hell. If this worked, if she could persuade … cooperation from him. Then perhaps it would give her another opportunity for vengeance.

The phylactery twitched. She pushed her thoughts away and glared at it. The lid of the urn shifted, releasing a sliver of power. It was like a grasping hand, mapping out the air before another game up to join it. Power began to swirl around the urn, Firesong's words strengthened and his wheezing voice rose in volume.

The scrape of bones on stone caught her attention, the shift of uneasiness of her guard caught her attention. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and gave the darkness that surrounded them a predatory look. Nothing moved outside the circle of candle light.

Irritated, she looked back to the phylactery expectantly. amidst the weaving hands of dark magic pieces of bone had began to move.

"The incantation is done," Firesong said the glow of his eyes showing confidence that he and his mages had completed this ritual correctly. "Kel'Thuzad. Return to the land of the living. Do so at the command of the Dark Lady Sylvanas." His voice held a command as he issued the command to the moving magic and bone.

The magic stopped with that command. The rib cage and pelvic bone dropped from the air and crashed onto the stone floor with a clatter that gave finality to the ritual. Cain's gave met her and she saw fear in it.

The ritual had failed.

She didn't make any attempt to hide her displeasure.

"I follow no one's rule," a voice echoed through the dark chamber. "My master is long dead," there was an icy glow from the phylactery. "If you wish to end me as well, you needn't me create a form for you to do so."

"As much as it would please me to do so," she said after a length. "It would be to my advantage to not destroy ," she took a breath and focused on the urn again. "Draw your power lich and show us what you are truly capable of."

A skull rose above the urn, the eye sockets filled with a blue light that sickened her. "You have need of me?" A deep chuckle rumbled through her. "Oh how you have been a thorn in the side of Arthas," she ground her teeth together as the creature began to piece itself together, the blue glow of magic giving it more form aside from the skeletal remains. "What can I do for you, Dark Lady of the Forsaken?"

"You," she swallowed her hatred for the lich drily, "Will align yourself with me and I will be your new master."


End file.
